Conjecture of the Paradigm
by mvignal
Summary: An assumption formed from an incomplete pattern. Guerrero gets a call from his ex-wife, and his son is kidnapped; the details are foggy, and decisions are made.     Rated M for violence and strong language
1. Prologue

_At that moment, they were both happy. The lion and the lamb. The lamb was sleeping, breathing softly, and unbeknownst to the lion, in the beautiful place between consciousness and sleep. The lion was watching her, sipping his chai tea. The lion likes chai tea. Maybe it's because his best friend drinks chai. Maybe it's because when his mom would beat him, he hid in the pantry, and used to smell the tea to keep himself calm. Maybe he remembers the scent of chai tea when he killed his first mark as an assassin. Maybe he just likes chai tea. But his choice of tea is irrelevant, since as soon as the lamb stirs, he is going to ignore his tea, and focus only on the lamb._

The lamb drifted into semiconscious dreamland. She began to analyze the consequences, like she had been taught since she was a small child. Start at the bottom, work your way back up. Her feet were bound together, no doubt, who could sleep with their feet like that? She was sitting, but her hands weren't resting in her lap, where she would usually have them. They were bound with something soft and firm, to her armrests, probably leather. Remembering the significance of a wedding band on your left hand, fourth finger; there was a vein that leads directly to your heart, and was the customary place for an IV. That explained the pinching sensation that had been irritating her left hand, and the pulse oximiter. There was no band around her middle or her shoulders, suggesting that she may be doubling over in pain. Not a good sign. Lastly she felt a blindfold, a gag, and her hair as she had left it. At least her captor had a sense of style, and knew her hair looked better away from her face. She decided to readjust her posture, to see if anyone was watching. She drew back her shoulders, and arched her back. Stretching her legs out In front of her, and sliding her arms out forward and out, she let out a muffled "Ah," through the gag. She slumped back a second after she had begun, but heard glass clink against glass. Another bad sign. Doing mental math about her situation, the only viable answer she could come up with was a big, whooping, "Fuck."

Her head twitched slightly before she moved. He resisted the urge to run over and beg her to tell him where his son was. It had been four hours, and thirty seven minutes since he had gotten the call from Veronika, sobbing.

"Fuck, Guerrero, fuck they found us. Goddamn, just get them. They're at the place. Forget about me, just fucking get them. Shit, I lo-" she was cut off, and a man grabbed the phone and spoke in a Russian accent, "So Guererro, we meet again. Your lovely ex-wife has done a lovely job of welcoming us into her-" Guererro heard some Russian profanities, and the sounds of glass breaking and pots hitting a tile floor. "заткнись, если вы хотите жить. Я убью вас, ваших детей, и Ваш муж, если вы продолжаете бороться и шуметь. понял?" Guererro understood the statement with frightening clarity. "Shut up if you want to live. I'll kill you, your children and your husband, if you continue to fight and make noise. Understand?" The sounds of fighting ceased, and he heard one sob, and some incoherent blubbering, he wasn't even sure if it was Russian, English, or both. A gag was brought, and she was bound hand and foot, and judging by the disgruntled little sound she made through the gag, dropped unceremoniously on her couch. She sniffled quietly. "As I was saying, we have your ex-wife here. Unfortunately for us, your children left just before we arrived. Pity, I was looking forward to meeting the little ones. Ten million Ruble in a suitcase. Bring it to the Hotel Alexi, fourth floor, suite seven. I trust you have the means to unlock it? A skeleton card, as you say in America? You have until 6 tonight. Or, I guess you know what happens." Before the Russian hung up, he walked out onto the balcony, and for good measure, fired a shot into the ground. There was no bang, but Guerrero's hiss matched that of the suppressor on the his gun. The connection ended. Guererro put down his mug and left the room. He needed to get ready. Gloves and all. It was going to be a long night. He took a long and deep breath as he contemplated the tortures this girl would endure until he was satisfied she didn't know where his son was, and wasn't involved in this.

**A/N: Thanks if you've read this far; I hope you like the story. I'm not sure how often I can update, but I'll do my best to add an update at least once a week. If you like what you see, let me know in the reviews or send me a PM! **


	2. Ch 1  Equipment

As he gathered his equipment, there was one idea he couldn't shake. Nika had said on the phone children. He hadn't seen her since he had bought the house for her seventeen years ago. Aside from that fling at the hotel in Kiev, where she had translated for Chance to find out who was hunting the client. He knew he had a son, who was two years old. But he had no knowledge of others. Nika was the only woman he had ever had sex with who he hadn't used birth control with. Maybe she had kids from another relationship? No, impossible, who was he anyways? He was Guerrero, King of Torture. No secret he couldn't find out, no answer he could get. He was the best, and he had the friends to prove it. He had three different guys on Nika, and he hadn't heard about a second child? She hadn't had a fling with anyone, and she hadn't been pregnant. He trusted every one of the guys he had had follow Nika, and they were all alive, except the first, who had died in a car accident a few years back. He had asked the guys to monitor for significant changes, and four had been reported. Nothing concerning a second child though. He grabbed his tackle box, and a crash cart more loaded than your average ER's, and dragged it back into the room. No more time pondering silly possibilities, time to get down to business.

She heard him coming a mile away. He was dragging something on wheels, and she heard the soft clanging of metal in a toolbox as it swung, keeping pace as he was walking towards her. Tackle box. Big fuck. This just keeps getting better. First, her mom rushes her out of the house in a cab, with nothing but a purse filled with cash, a loaded handgun, and a small notebook. Her little brother beside her, she paid the cab fare in advance to an address in the industrial area of town. Her mom kissed her, and told her quietly in Russian, "If you have to kill someone, I understand. The people at this address will protect you. Someone'll meet you there. I love you, now go." Nika closed the door, and tapped twice on the roof. The cabbie sighed, thinking about how the spies actually did that when they wanted the car to leave. He wished he was making that kind of salary so he could send his teenage son to college. He drove off to the address the woman had given him.

Guerrero went for the cab his son was in. He caught sight of the cab, and turned to follow it. He grabbed his mobile, and dialed Chance. He got a groggy "Hello?" from Chance, and then he started talking. "They got Nika and my son. She sent him and an unnamed person to the office. Meet them there, they're en-route already. I'm right behind them, but I can't stay, I need to call in a few favors. Got it dude?" He heard what vaguely sounded like a yes, hanging up, and dialing into more calls to assure his son's safety. He followed them until the bridge. Four cabs came in around them, and they all shuffled. By the time he hit the other side, he was following the wrong cab. He spun around in the intersection and sped back towards his home. He turned his phone off. If anyone wanted him, they would have to find him. Not even Chance knew about the place he was going. He popped out the battery and sim card, and set them in the El Do's cup holder. It was going to be a long night.

**A/N – So, a fair number of people have read the story, and if you have, then thanks! I'm going on vacation for Easter break, and then I come back and go straight off to Cantando (which means no update for a while, unless I decide to add another chapter right now). I'm also going to apologize for the character's thought processes, and the fragmented sentences in so many places. And also for switching POV every paragraph, and for not giving a clear indication. However, I'm sure that you're smart and can figure it out (If not that's what R&R and PM's are for). Would you guys be interested in a bit of French writing too? Let me know! **

**Thanks for reading my rant!**


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